


This Must Be Magic

by TheGreatSporkWielder



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Forced Marriage, I will add character tags as the characters appear, I'm probably stealing from a bunch of different fairytales here but whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-06 10:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatSporkWielder/pseuds/TheGreatSporkWielder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a young lady. She was very beautiful, with long dark hair that fell down her back in a silky curtain and a smile that lit up her pretty face, and was very kind to everyone she met, even the woodland creatures who frolicked in the forest behind her family’s home; in every way, she was everything her parents could ever hope for in a daughter. She had grown up intelligent and wise and gentle, and had fallen in love with the prince of the land and was now betrothed to him, destined to one day be his bride, and queen of all the land.</i>  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>But this story is not about this young lady, or it would end right here. No, this story is about her younger sister, a girl so very different in so many ways. And her story is much, much longer.</i></p>
<p>ON PERMANENT HIATUS</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally addie's fault. We were in the ElectricGreen chat, and it was like, two in the morning, and I apparently plotted out this story with her (I don't really remember; my brain stops functioning after about 12:30). 
> 
> This is going to use quite a few common fairy tale tropes; so just assume that if you recognize it, I don't own it.
> 
> Story title taken from the song by ABC.

_Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a young lady. She was very beautiful, with long dark hair that fell down her back in a silky curtain and a smile that lit up her pretty face, and was very kind to everyone she met, even the woodland creatures who frolicked in the forest behind her family’s home; in every way, she was everything her parents could ever hope for in a daughter. She had grown up intelligent and wise and gentle, and, one day, had fallen in love with the prince of the land, and was now betrothed to him, destined to one day be his bride, and queen of all the land._

_But this story is not about this young lady, or it would end right here. No, this story is about her younger sister, a girl so **very** different in so many ways. And **her** story is much, much longer._

###### 

 

“Ugh,” said Darcy, trying to tie the bodice of her gown while simultaneously attempting to keep her generous cleavage from falling out of her chemise. “Life is so unfair. I mean, look at you, Jane. You’re perfect.”

 

Jane really _was_ perfect. She was wearing a beautiful gown in a deep wine shade that brought out the golden glints in her dark hair and lovely, large dark eyes. Her hair, as befitted a betrothed young lady, was braided and coiled at the crown of her head, and a ribbon, matching her gown, had been woven through the braid. She looked like a princess, which was fitting, as she would actually become one in a few months, when she married her beloved Prince Thor.

 

“Oh, Darcy,” Jane replied, gliding up to her and taking the bodice ties out of Darcy’s hands. “You are beautiful and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

 

“Oh, _please,”_ Darcy snorted, tugging at the neckline of her gown. “It’s as though when Mother was pregnant with you, the gods looked down and said, ‘Let us give this child every gift we can,’ and so you got beauty and smarts and grace and all the things girls are supposed to have. And then when she got pregnant with _me,_ the gods said, ‘Oops. Now what?’ and dug around for something until they found a vial of Tit Juice gathering dust on the back shelf.”

 

“Really, Darcy,” Jane reproved as she finished lacing up the bodice and stepped back. “You _are_ so vulgar.”

 

“It’s the _truth,_ though,” said Darcy, sitting down at her vanity to apply a touch of stain to her lips. “What have I got to offer a man other than my gift from the gods? I mean, if we were in a fairytale, you’d be _talking_ to the deer and the rabbits that wander in from the forest, not just feeding them and tending to their injuries. You talk like a lady, about art and music and the sort of things ladies are supposed to like. You even _cry_ like a princess, all silent sadness and teardrops glistening like jewels on your rosy cheek. On the other hand, I’d rather talk about horses and military strategy and fencing; art and needlework bore me to tears, and I’d rather make up the songs than sit there, quietly listening to the minstrels sing them. When _I_ cry, my face gets all red and splotchy, and I make these horrible noises, like that time the rooster got his foot stuck in a root. There’s no way anybody would mistake _me_ for fairytale princess material.”

 

“Ah,” said Jane, picking up the hairbrush and running it through Darcy’s hair, “but in these tales, is it not the _younger_ sister who often has the adventures and marries the handsome prince in the end? And she usually acts in a shockingly unladylike manner at one point or another. Tramping through the forests unprotected, and speaking impertinently to her elders, and so forth. Which is _quite_ like you.”

 

“But the older sister is usually a bit—a horrible person,” Darcy amended, after catching Jane’s (ladylike) glare in the mirror. 

“Well, you shall have to write you _own_ tale,” said Jane, smiling, as she gently untangled a snarl in Darcy’s thick, dark, curls. “Perhaps one where the older sister wishes her younger as much happiness as she has found.”

 

“I can never be as happy as you, Jane,” said Darcy, reaching a hand up to give her sister’s arm an affectionate squeeze. “No man will ever have me, vulgar creature that I am. I will be perfectly content to be maiden Aunt Darcy to the little princes and princesses. Prince Loki and I can be unmarried together.”

 

Jane pursed her lips. “Prince Loki is a _man,_ and therefore, has every right to join the Order of Mages and remain unwed,” she said. “ _You,_ on the other hand, do not have that freedom.” She finished running the brush through Darcy’s hair, leaving it loose, as was custom for an unattached maiden. “There. At least you _look_ demure.”

 

“Appearances _are_ deceiving,” Darcy replied, grinning, as she put on her shoes. The two sisters went down to the dining hall, where their mother and father were already eating their breakfast.

 

“Ah! Good morning, my daughters,” said their father, standing to greet them. “You both look quite lovely this morning.”

 

“Thank you, Father,” replied Jane, giving her father a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning, Mother.” She walked over to where her mother sat, and bent to kiss her cheek as well, then took the seat next to the older woman.

 

“Morning, Papa,” said Darcy, throwing her arms around her father’s neck. He chuckled and hugged her back.

 

“Darcy!” her mother called sharply. “You will _wrinkle_ your gown! And you _know_ Prince Thor is due for a visit today!”

 

“Sorry, Mother,” Darcy replied, sighing, as she pulled away. “But we all know he’s not here to see _me,_ anyway.”  Her father gave her a small commiserating smile, and led Darcy over to the breakfast table. She took the seat across from Jane, and dug into her food, managing not to grumble when her mother scolded her for putting her elbows on the table again. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's father comes home, and tells them about the deal. Darcy has a PLAN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to Chaerring for reading over this for me. :)

One week later, Darcy was with her mother and Jane in the upstairs parlor. Darcy was supposed to be embroidering a cushion, but after she'd pricked her finger on her needle for the third time, her mother had suggested, with that long-suffering tone in her voice that she often used with Darcy, that perhaps Darcy should draw, and didn't the sky look pretty today? So now Darcy was sitting in the chair by the window, but rather than focusing on her sketchbook, her eyes were on the path, leading in the direction of the neighboring kingdom of Stark, where her father had gone a few days ago to purchase some cloth for Jane's trousseau. 

 

Darcy hated being at home when Papa wasn't there. Jane tried her best to keep the peace between Darcy and their mother, but eventually, Jane's etiquette training would override her feelings, and she would submit to their mother's command to not interfere, while Darcy would stand, shoulders slumped, as always, while Mother, shoulders straight as a board, railed on and on about how Darcy's refusal to ride sidesaddle like a proper lady was bringing shame on their family.

 

If Jane was their mother's daughter, then Darcy belonged completely to their father. Papa had indulged Darcy's desire for unladylike pursuits, engaging a fencing master to teach her when she was six years old. Mother had been horrified, but Papa had just laughed and said that maybe this would be a more effective way of teaching Darcy to be graceful than having her try to balance a teacup on her head. “Paying him will no doubt cost less than replacing all the dishes,” he'd said, and that was the end of it.

 

Once Darcy had turned thirteen, however, and had begun blossoming into womanhood, Mother had put her foot down and insisted it was time for Darcy to truly begin to learn how to act like a lady. From that point on, Papa had let Mother take over Darcy's education, only interfering when Darcy and her mother's arguments got heated enough to where the servants were buzzing about them.

 

The clattering of wheels on the hard dirt road jerked Darcy out of her thoughts. “Papa!” she exclaimed, jumping out of her seat and tossing her sketchbook onto the table. “Papa's home!”

 

“ _Darcy,”_ her mother hissed sternly, as they made their way to the front hall. “Ladies _do not_ yell, and they most certainly do not _run.”_

 

“Yes, Mother,” Darcy replied halfheartedly, taking the stairs two at a time, landing on each stair with a _thump._

 

“They also do not _tromp_ down the stairs like a great beast, shaking the walls of the house,” Mother added with a disdainful sniff as she glided down the stairs, Jane at her side. 

 

“Yes, Mother. Sorry, Mother.” Darcy tried to look properly contrite, taking the last few steps in a more sedate manner, and while her mother's expression was disbelieving, she nodded in acceptance. Darcy turned and raced out the door, shoving their hound, Dollie, aside as she pushed the door open and ran as fast as permitted without enduring another reprimand. “Papa!” she called, throwing herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. Her father grabbed her shoulders and jerked her away from him. “Oh, Darcy,” he said, his voice and eyes full of horror, “oh, my dearest daughter. What have I done?” 

 

“What are you talking about, Papa?” Darcy asked. “You can't have done anything more shocking than I have. I leapt down the stairs just now, oh, and the day after you left, I tricked the blacksmith's boy into teaching me how to shoe a horse and--” Darcy was cut off when her father dragged her back to him and wrapped his arms around her, tight. Confused, she hugged him back. “Papa, what's wrong?” 

 

“We must get inside,” he said, pulling away and leading her toward the house. “For I have a tale to tell, and I fear it has just become more terrible than I fathomed it could be.” 

 

Once the family had gone inside, back into the parlor, Papa said, “I must begin at the beginning, and I promise you that this tale, no matter how fantastic it may sound, is completely true.”

 

 

###### 

 

 

_After I completed my business in Stark, two days ago, I began making my journey home. But I must have made a wrong turn somewhere along the road, because I came to a part of the forest that I did not recognize. It was quite remote and overgrown; it seemed as though it had not been traveled for many a year. I began to worry, as it was growing dark and there did not seem to be any inns or even any cabins where I could beg a night's shelter. I resigned myself to sleeping in the cart for the night and praying that the gods would protect me._

_  
_

_However, as I settled in, just before the sun set, I heard the howl of a pack of wolves, and saw them coming towards me. There were far too many for me to fight all by myself, and I knew that I would die that night. I prayed and asked the gods to bless you, my dear wife and daughters, and was comforted by the thought that Jane was taken care of, and that the royal family would care for you, my love, and Darcy, as though you were their own._

_  
_

_But just as I closed my eyes and submitted to my death, as was the will of the gods, I heard a roar so great and terrible, I can still hear it echoing in my ears. I opened my eyes and saw a great giant, which had to be twice as tall as a man and quite three or four times as large,and with skin the color of the grass beneath our feet, throwing the beasts around as though they were nothing more than rats. I confess, I did nothing but cower like a frightened boy, as he killed the creatures. Once they were dead, he turned to me, and I thought he might kill me, too, but he just grunted and began to walk away._

 

_I felt as though I had to thank him, so I called out, “Sir! You have saved my life! How can I ever repay you?” He turned back to me and told me that no payment was necessary. I insisted that I must be allowed to thank him in some way for the great service he did for me. He looked thoughtful, then said, “In five days' time, bring me the first thing that greets you when you return home.” Then he gave me a stern look that said, “I will be waiting, and I will know if you try to deceive me,” and ran off into the woods, and I saw him no more._

 

 _Well, I thought it would be Dollie, as it is_ _**always** _ _Dollie; while I love her, I would be willing to part with her to satisfy my honor. Imagine my horror, when it was you, dearest Darcy, who was the first to greet me upon my return! What shall we do? I promised him I would do this, but how can I sacrifice my daughter to a monster?_

 

 

###### 

 

The women listened in fascination, which turned to fright, which turned to shock, as Papa told his story. When he mentioned the giant, Mother swooned a little, but after Jane gave her smelling salts, she revived long enough to hear Papa say that  _Darcy_ was now promised to the giant, whereupon she fell into a faint. 

 

“What shall I do?” Papa moaned, burying his face in his hands. “My foolish honor! My foolish pride! I am disgraced forever.” 

 

“Why?” asked Darcy. “You promised him whatever greeted you. That was me. I cannot have you living the rest of your life in dishonor, Papa. I will go to him.” 

 

“You do not understand, Darcy,” said Papa. “He is not only a giant, he is wild and savage. He spoke as though barely a man. I fear you would not survive one night with him.” 

 

“Why would he kill me?” asked Darcy.

 

“If he was so very savage,” said Jane thoughtfully, “he would not have saved you from the wolves. There is something of a man in him, I think. And, at any rate, perhaps he is just testing you. Perhaps you and Darcy will arrive, and he will be satisfied that you kept your promise, and allow you to leave. After all, perhaps _he_ thought it would be a dog, or a pony, just as you did.”

 

“Do not worry, Papa,” said Darcy. “I will be as vulgar and sharp-tongued and unladylike as possible, and he will realize I am not worth the trouble. Perhaps I will ride astride, and in breeches, to be _particularly_ shocking.” 

 

Her father could not help but laugh a little at that. “Ah, Darcy,” he said, reaching over to set one large hand on the crown of her head, “I thank the gods for your wit.”

 

“Then it is settled,” said Darcy. “We will go, and I will cut him with the sharp edge of my tongue, and he will become annoyed and send us home straightaway, wishing that he had followed his _own_ sense of honor and refused your offer of payment.” 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy meets the giant and her plan doesn't work out quite the way she thought it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Chaerring for reading over this for me!

Darcy and her father traveled back through the woods to the place where Papa had met the giant. They had a few guards with them, as well as an old man Darcy did not recognize, but whose garments identified him as a priest. Darcy wasn't sure what good a priest was going to do them _now._ She was already on her way to become the prisoner of an enormous green giant; the gods certainly would've been more helpful before this point. _Thank you very much, O Great Ones,_ she thought sarcastically. _I know I often prayed that I wouldn't have to spend another day in the same house as Mother, but becoming a prisoner_ _ **wasn't**_ _exactly the solution I had in mind..._

 

She was jerked out of her thoughts by the sound of a loud roar; a roar she felt right down to her bones. “He's here,” her father said quietly.

 

And then he was in front of them, and Darcy couldn't help but gape. Papa had told her that this personage they were meeting was a giant, but Darcy hadn't expected him to be  _quite_ so huge, and indeed as green as Papa had said; both his skin and eyes were the color of grass on a clear summer's day. Only his hair was different; a shock of messy dark curls nearly the color of her own. She felt as though she might tilt back off her horse by the time her eyes had found their way up his body to his face. She blushed slightly when she realized he was also only half-dressed, wearing nothing but a pair of tattered trousers. Darcy hadn't seen a man wearing so little clothing since the time she had gone with her father to the capital three years ago and seen the sailors working on the ships. The giant walked up to them, the ground shaking with every great step. He stopped about three yards in front of Papa's horse, and glared down at him, crossing his arms across his enormous bare chest. 

 

“ **You return,”** the giant said simply, his voice deep and gravelly, booming in the silence of the forest.

 

“Yes,” Papa replied, his voice quiet, and shaking slightly, though with fear or sadness, Darcy couldn't tell. “I made you a promise, sir, and, although it breaks my heart to do so, I shall keep it.” 

 

The giant blinked, as though surprised, then looked over the party accompanying Darcy and her father and said, “ **Why you sad? You like horse or dog so much that you cannot give it to Hulk?”**

 

“Hulk?” Darcy blurted incredulously. “Is that your _name?”_

 

The giant turned his unfathomable gaze on her and nodded. “ **I called Hulk. What you called?”**

 

Darcy's eyes narrowed. “I am Darcy,” she replied, as haughtily as she could muster, “and I am no  _horse_ or  _dog._ You, just as Papa, did not think about the fact that  _I_ love my father as much as Dollie does.” 

 

One bushy eyebrow raised skeptically.  **“He bring** _**you?** _ **You are** _**girl.”** _

 

Darcy sat up straighter in her saddle and tossed her hair. “I am a  _woman,_ thank you very much; I turned twenty-and-three two months ago. And should you force my father to honor his promise, I will make certain you regret taking me away from him.” 

 

Hulk's expression turned stormy.  **“** _ **Hulk** _ **not make** __ **promise. Hulk take what** _**offered** _ **to him.”**

 

“And yet, now that you realize that what was offered was _me,_ you do not intend to do the honorable thing and consider my father's debt paid? You, sir, have _no_ honor at all.” Darcy glared at Hulk, and he glared back, neither of them willing to break eye contact with the other. 

 

“ **Silly** _ **honor**_ **is what bring you here, not Hulk,”** Hulk said, his voice tight, as though he was trying to reign in his anger. 

 

At that, Papa spoke up. “If you do intend to hold me to my promise, and take my beloved daughter from me as payment for saving my life, I do have one requirement.”

 

“ **What requirement?”** Hulk tore his eyes away from Darcy and placed his cold green gaze on her father. 

 

“I will not have my daughter living in dishonor in the house of a man who is neither her husband nor her father. I have brought a priest with me, and you shall marry her, here, in the sight of the gods and these witnesses.” 

 

“ _What?”_ Darcy yelled, turning to glare at her father. “Papa, you _cannot_ be serious!” She took slight satisfaction in the fact that Hulk seemed to be as surprised by her father's request as she was. 

 

“It pains me, my dear daughter,” said her father gently, “but it must be done.” 

 

“I cannot _believe_ this!” Darcy raged. “You actually intend to _marry_ me to him? Papa, I know you and Mother have run out of eligible men to offer me to, but this is _ridiculous.”_

 

“Do you truly think I _wish_ to marry you to such a creature, Darcy? But if he intends to take you back to his home with him, you will go as his _wife._ It is the only way to satisfy my honor as both a man and your father.”

 

Hulk watched them thoughtfully, and then he nodded.  **“Hulk will marry Darcy. Darcy will belong to Hulk.”**

 

“You _must_ be joking,” Darcy scoffed. She pointed her finger at Hulk and snarled, “I don't belong to _anybody,_ least of all _you._ If you force me to marry you, _Hulk,_ I will make your life so miserable, you will regret ever laying eyes on me.” 

 

Hulk raised an eyebrow at her, and his lips twitched, as though he was amused.  **“Darcy will make Hulk's life** _**interesting.** _ **Hulk bored. Darcy not boring.”** __

 

Darcy wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the thought that she'd finally met a man who appeared to find her impudence  _diverting._ Of  _course_ it would amuse a giant; he was no doubt so used to people being frightened of him, he probably found her impertinence refreshing. Perhaps she should have acted more like Mother had always wanted her to; being silent and gentle and  _boring_ might have saved her from this fate. 

 

The whole encounter had seemed like a particularly vivid dream; so it wasn't until the marriage ceremony was performed, the words spoken, a plain silver band slipped onto her finger, and Darcy left alone with the giant, that she realized that this was actually happening, that she'd been wed to a monster and would most likely never see her family again; her courage failed her at last, and she fell into a dead faint.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and her new husband chat. She meets some of the household staff, and finds a strange man in her bedroom.

Darcy awoke in unfamiliar surroundings. She could hear birds singing and the chirp of crickets, and felt hard ground beneath her body; felt a rock digging into the small of her back. _I must have fallen asleep in the woods again,_ she thought. _That was certainly quite a strange dream._ She opened her eyes to see a large green face staring intently down at her. She couldn’t help the startled yell that escaped her throat as she jerked upright. She held a hand to her rapidly beating heart as the memory of meeting, and then marrying, Hulk came back to her. It _hadn’t_ been a dream. The last thing she remembered was fainting, _swooning_ like a silly girl. Hulk had apparently carried her this far. Darcy was grateful that she had not been awake for that particular adventure.

 

**“Darcy no scream,”** said Hulk, frowning down at her. **“Hulk hates screaming.”**

“Well, _excuse_ me _,”_ snapped Darcy, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, “but it’s a bit shocking to wake up to a giant _looming_ over me like he’s contemplating eating me for dinner.”

 

**“Hulk no eatDarcy,”** he replied, offended. **“Hulk eats _animals_.” **

“That’s very comforting,” she replied, standing up and brushing dirt off her breeches. She squinted up at the sky, noting the sun’s low position through the branches. She’d apparently been unconscious for quite some time, as it was nearly night.

 

She reached up to fix her hair, and sighed as she felt grass tangled up in the long strands. She grabbed the locks and began twisting them at the nape of her neck. “Where are we?”

 

**“Near home,”** he replied, lifting one giant hand and pointing. **“There.”** Darcy turned and saw a turret pointing up over some of the trees about twenty yards away.

 

“Oh,” she said. She gave up on her hair, turned back to him and said, “I certainly hope you don’t expect me to _run_ your castle. I may have been forced to marry you, but that doesn’t mean I’ll just settle into being your little wife and cooking your meals and all that nonsense.”

 

Hulk shrugged. **“Darcy do what Darcy wants,”** he said. **“Hulk feeds himself.”**

“Do you have servants?” she asked.

 

Hulk nodded. **“Others care for house.”**

“So what _am_ I supposed to do?”

 

**“Darcy do what Darcy wants,”** he repeated. He tilted his head and thought for a bit, then said, **“Darcy ride horse. House has horses.”**

“Do you have a proper saddle?”

 

**“Darcy not use girl saddle before,”** he pointed out.

Darcy quirked an eyebrow at him. “You’re just going to let me ride around in men’s clothing?”

 

  **“Hulk not care,”** he said. **“Darcy wear what Darcy want.”**

“How very modern of you,” she quipped. “Next thing I know, you’ll be offering me an education.”

 

**“House has books.”**

That startled a laugh out of her. “We just might get along, after all,” she said.

He studied her for a minute, and then he stiffened and abruptly gestured toward the castle. **“Darcy go there now,”** he said brusquely. **“Dark soon. Others take care of Darcy.”** He then turned and ran off into the woods, and Darcy lost sight of him in the waning light of the evening.

 

“And a good evening to you, too,” she called after him. There was no answer. “Wonderful,” she said sarcastically, and made her way to the castle entrance. She knocked on the door, and a tall, thin man answered. He looked shocked to see her. “May I help you, miss?” he asked, his eyes taking in her rather bedraggled appearance. “Are you lost?”

 

“Not exactly,” said Darcy. “It is a _very_ long story, but a giant green man told me to come here.”

 

The man blinked. “The Master brought you here?”

 

She nodded and held up her left hand. “Home, sweet home.”

 

 The man’s eyes widened. “You…are _wed_ to the Master?”

 

She nodded again. “Unfortunately.”

 

The man gaped a little at her, then shook himself. “Where _are_ my manners? Come in, my lady! You are _most_ welcome. I am Ernest, the butler.”

 

“Thank you, Ernest,” Darcy replied gratefully, following him into the entryway. It had been hard to tell from the outside, in the rapidly waning light of the setting sun, but the castle seemed to be a bit run-down, as though it had been abandoned long ago, and Hulk’s servants were doing their best to keep it in working condition with apparently limited resources. Darcy wondered how they managed to do anything for their master, considering Hulk would have to squeeze to even fit inside the door.

 

“Come, Mistress,” said Ernest, bowing slightly. “I will take you to your chambers.” His eyes landed on her breeches, and she bit her lip to keep from smirking as his cheeks flushed and he quickly brought his gaze back up to her face.  It was good to know that _someone_ was reacting to her attire as she’d intended, even if it wasn’t the rightman.

 

Ernest silently led her to a door on the second floor, where he bowed again. “I will send a maid to you, Mistress,” he said stiffly, managing, in that secret way known only to butlers, to be simultaneously disapproving and deferential. “She can help you freshen up and change your garments.”

 

Darcy nodded and thanked him, pushing open the door and entering the room. She looked around at the chambers. They looked comfortable and inviting, with two large overstuffed chairs sitting near an enormous stone fireplace, in which a fire was already crackling. The room was dominated by an enormous four-poster bed that looked almost sinfully inviting.

 

Suddenly, the door opened, and a man walked in. He was not tall, nor imposing, and his clothing was rumpled and much too large for him. He seemed to have an air about him as though he hoped no one would notice he was there, and he looked completely exhausted.  When his eyes landed on Darcy, he jumped and his dark eyes widened. “Who are _you_?” he asked, shocked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know Hulk is more articulate and less SMASHY than usual, but...it's an AU. *handwaves* Just work with me, here. :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy meets her.... _other_ husband, who tells her a tale of a curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Chaerring for looking this over for me!

“Who are _you_?” he asked, shocked.

“I could ask you the same question,” Darcy snapped, drawing herself up to her full height. “You’re no ladies’ maid. Why are you in my bedroom?”

 

The man's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. His hair reminded her of Hulk's, dark and messy and falling over his forehead. “ _Your_ bedroom?” he echoed. “I'm sorry, my lady, but this is _my_ bedroom.”

 

“I don't know who you think you are,” Darcy said, reaching over and snatching a heavy pewter candlestick from a table near the door, “but if you don't get out of here _right now,_ I am going to—“

 

“What?” the man interrupted. He gestured at her hand. “Hope I stand still while you come over here and bludgeon me with a candlestick? If so, you will be sorely disappointed.”

 

“No,” Darcy retorted, her eyes narrowing as her grip tightened on her makeshift weapon. “I will _scream_ , and the servants will call my husband, and he will come and squash you like an insect.”

 

The man blinked in surprise. “I-I'm sorry; your _what?”_

 

“My _husband._ ”

 

He, if possible, looked even more confused. “And…who is your husband?”

 

“He calls himself 'Hulk.' And it's a rather appropriate, if somewhat unorthodox, name.”

 

The man’s mouth dropped open, and he looked as though it might be _his_ turn to faint. “The-the _who?_ You're married to _whom?”_

 

“Hulk,” said Darcy, slowly lowering the candlestick. “This _is_ his castle, isn’t it? Ernest knew who he was, at any rate.”

 

“Oh, gods,” the man groaned, rubbing one hand over his face as he crossed the room and sank into one of the chairs by the fireplace. “Oh, merciful gods, _please_ tell me you’re joking.”

 

“I most certainly am _not.”_

 

The man buried his face in his hands.  “This cannot be happening to me,” he moaned.

 

“Who _are_ you?” Darcy repeated. “And what are you doing here?”

 

“My name is Bruce Banner,” he said. “And I _live_ here.”

 

“What is going on here, _Bruce Banner_?” Darcy demanded.

 

“This might be difficult for you to believe,” Bruce began.

 

Darcy snorted. “I was married this afternoon to a _giant._ Who is _green._ Not much could surprise me, now, I don't think.”

 

Bruce's lips twitched wryly, and for a moment, this man again reminded Darcy of Hulk. “This might,” he said. “Because, if you did indeed marry Hulk today, you are also married to _me. I_ am Hulk.”

 

“Do you think I'm stupid?” said Darcy derisively. “Hulk is _enormous._ And _green._ And _half-naked._ And you are _none_ of those things. _”_

 

“Yes,” said Bruce wearily. “But it is true, nonetheless. And, come sunrise, you can see it for yourself.”

 

“Sunrise?” asked Darcy.

 

He nodded. “I am Hulk from sunrise to sunset, and as you see at night.”

 

Darcy set the candlestick back down on the table and walked over to sit in the chair opposite Bruce. “Why?” she asked, curling her legs underneath her, settling her eyes onto Bruce's face.

 

He hesitated for a moment, then said, “What I am about to tell you must remain a secret. None but you can know the truth of it.”

 

Darcy looked skeptical. “I suppose now you’re going to tell me you’ve been cursed?”

 

Bruce nodded. “Yes, I was.”

 

Darcy scoffed. “You honestly expect me to believe that?”  It was ridiculous to even contemplate, the idea that this man, with his soft dark eyes and his unassuming air, was the same fierce creature who she’d married in the forest earlier that day.

 

Bruce sighed. “Years ago, when I was a young man, I fell in love with a beautiful young lady, the daughter of a powerful sorcerer,” he said. “We loved each other, but we knew that her father would never allow the match because my family was neither noble nor wealthy. We made secret plans to elope, thinking that once we were married, her father would have no choice but to accept our love for one another.”

 

“That plan did not quite work out as intended, I suppose,” Darcy said.

 

Bruce shook his head. “No, it did not. Her father found out and cursed me. He told me he would make sure that I lived the rest of my life with the knowledge that I would never be with his daughter, nor indeed any lady at all.”

 

“What did he do to her?” Darcy asked curiously.

 

“He betrothed her to another,” Bruce answered sadly. “The last I knew of her, she had been wed to a nobleman in a kingdom across the sea.”  

 

“And you?” said Darcy. “What exactly is this curse?”

 

“Only at night, when I am here, alone in my home, can I be myself,” said Bruce. “In the light of day, I am a monster, a savage beast; wreaking gods only know what havoc.”

 

“That is _quite_ a story,” said Darcy. “I cannot believe it, but I also find it hard to believe you would invent such a bizarre tale. How do you manage it?”

 

“The only comfort I have,” Bruce replied, “is that, at night, I have little memory of what I, as Hulk, have done in the day; and that I live in a largely abandoned portion of the forest, and therefore, Hulk does not often encounter living creatures other than those he hunts for food.”

 

“And my father,” Darcy sighed ruefully.

 

“What exactly happened?” asked Bruce. “You said you _married_ Hulk?”

 

“Not by choice, I assure you,” Darcy snapped. She told him the story, and at the end of it, Bruce shook his head in wonder.

 

“I am rather puzzled,” he said. “I cannot think why Hulk would agree to it.”

 

“He said he was bored,” said Darcy.

 

Bruce laughed slightly. “Yes, I suppose he is,” he said. “However, what I meant was, I cannot believe he agreed to _marriage._ I'm surprised he knew what it was.”

 

“He seemed savage,” said Darcy. “Not stupid.”

 

“No,” Bruce agreed. “He’s not stupid. He is _me,_ at least partly, after all. But he does not interact with people very often, other than my servants. The idea of marriage is not something he would’ve encountered before.”

 

“Maybe he _didn’t_ know exactly what he was doing,” said Darcy. “He just knew that it was the only way my father would let him keep me.”

 

“Hmm,” Bruce hummed thoughtfully, eyeing her. “That, too, is curious.”

 

Before he could say more, there was a tentative knock at the door, and a maid poked her head in. “Pardon me, Mistress,” she began. Her eyes landed on Bruce. “Master!” she squeaked. “Forgive me; I did not know you were back, sir.”

 

“It’s quite alright, Millie,” said Bruce, standing up and making his way to the chamber door. “You help Mistress…” he turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at Darcy, but before she could answer, his eyes seemed to take on a greenish tinge for a moment and he continued, “Mistress Darcy with whatever she requires. And tell Mrs. Lockwood to prepare a guest chamber for me.”

 

“Of course, sir,” Millie replied, bobbing in a curtsey. She retreated from the room and shut the door.

 

“How did you know my name?” Darcy demanded. “I don’t recall giving it to you.”

 

“No, you didn’t,” he said, giving her a small smile, his eyes back to their normal brown. “But you told it to _him_.” With that, he gave her a courteous nod and left, leaving her to gaze after him in shock.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As of this chapter, I am putting all my stories on hiatus until after June 27th. I am taking the GRE that day, and am devoting all my time until then to study. Thanks for your understanding!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Hulk talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done with GRE! Now I just have to send out applications, but I don't have to STUDY to do that; so I'm coming back to fic. Here's a shiny new chapter for you! Thanks for all your good wishes! :)

The next morning, Darcy awoke to the sound of something banging on the window. She blearily sat up and turned to face the noise, shoving her hair out of her face. She jumped, yelping, as she saw the large green face of Hulk peering in at her through the window as he crouched on her balcony, tapping on the balcony door with one finger. She had apparently slept through the sunrise, judging by his appearance and the light streaming in through the glass. She slipped out of bed and threw a shawl over her shoulders. She walked over to the balcony doors and opened them.

 

“Shall I expect to always wake up to you watching me sleep?” she asked tartly, squinting up at him in the bright light of the morning. He was dressed the same way he’d been the day before, chest and feet bare, and Darcy was again struck by how big and _green_ he was. Looking at him now that she’d met Bruce, the stark differences between her husband’s forms made his tale of an enchantment even more astounding.

 

 **“Darcy _interesting,”_** he said. **“Hulk never watch girl sleep before.”**

“Well, please stop it. It’s disturbing.”

 

Hulk scratched his head, and then changed the subject. “ **Darcy meet Banner while Hulk gone?”** he asked.

 

“Yes,” said Darcy. “Last night. Is that what you mean?”

 

Hulk nodded. “ **Banner tell Darcy about us?”**

“Yes, he did,” Darcy replied. “And I am very sorry to hear of your troubles. Though I’m still not quite sure I believe it.”

 

“ **Darcy not tell anyone.”**

“Who am I supposed to tell? Your servants? They already know. And Bruce told me there is no one else around for miles.”

 

Hulk shook his head. “ **Darcy not tell _anyone. Never,”_** he said fiercely, bending in towards her.

**“** I won’t,” said Darcy. “I promise.”

 

Hulk nodded, mollified, and sat back on his heels, casually resting his forearms on his thighs.

 

“Do _you_ remember what happens at night; when you’re him?” Darcy asked curiously. “He told me he doesn’t remember what you do.”

 

Hulk shrugged. “ **Banner not like what Hulk do, so he forget. Hulk not pay attention to Banner. Banner not interesting. Not like Darcy.”**

“Not interesting?” said Darcy. “How so?”

 

**“He not want hunt. He not like forest. He just stay in house. Too quiet.”**

“Well,” said Darcy, “he is quite a bit smaller than you are. He can’t exactly pick up an elk or wolf and snap its neck with one hand.”

 

Hulk shook his head sadly. “ **Poor puny Banner.”**

Darcy could feel the corners of her mouth tug up in a reluctant smile. “We all have our faults,” she said sympathetically. “Not all of us can be great outdoorsmen.”

 

Hulk nodded in agreement. **“Banner not good hunter. Always miss. Hulk gets food for house.”**

“ _I’m_ a fair shot with a bow,” said Darcy. “Much to Mother’s horror. I don’t suppose I could go hunting someday?”

 

Hulk shook his head. “ **No need Darcy hunt. Hulk can get food for Darcy.”**

“I’m sure you could,” said Darcy. “But I’d like to go all the same.”

 

 **“Forest dangerous. Darcy not leave house without Hulk or Banner,”** he said sternly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

“So I _am_ your prisoner?” Darcy asked sharply. “Locked up my tower, never to leave?”

 

**“Darcy not prisoner. Darcy is _wife.”_**

****

“Do you even know what that _means?”_ she snapped.

 

 **“It mean Darcy belongs to Hulk.”** He glowered down at her, eyes flashing.

Her own eyes narrowed as she met his hard green gaze. “As I told you before, Darcy belongs to _no one_ ,” she said obstinately, putting her hands on her hips, “and she is not about to let herself be trapped in this draughty old castle all by her lonesome with nothing to do all day long.”

 

Hulk’s jaw twitched for a moment. He slowly uncrossed his arms and held out one large hand. **“Come with Hulk,”** he said. **“Hulk show Darcy the forest.”**

 

“What, _now_?” she exclaimed, aghast, drawing away from him. She looked down at the simple white nightgown she was wearing. “I can’t go out looking like this!”

 

Hulk’s jade eyes slid from Darcy’s wild, sleep-and-travel-mussed hair down her body to her bare toes peeping out from beneath the hem of her nightdress. **“Darcy look fine to Hulk,”** he said.

 

“I’m not dressed,” she said, clutching her shawl to her a little more tightly.

 

**“No one to see Darcy but Hulk and others.”**

“Yes, but—“

 

“ **Hulk does not care.”** He wiggled his fingers persuasively. “ **Others not say anything to Darcy.”**

She hesitated, looking nervously down at his open palm. He could easily wrap that one hand around her waist and carry her like she and Jane used to carry their dolls when they were children. She took a steadying breath, looked back up into his face, and said, **“** Maybe they would not, but even _I_ would never go out of doors in my _nightclothes.”_

 

Hulk looked confused, then peered up at the sky for a moment. **“Is day now.”**

“Yes, of course it’s daytime, but these are clothes I wear at _night.”_

 

Hulk sighed, then spoke slowly, as though trying to explain to a small child. “ **Is _not_ night. Is _day._ Darcy now wearing _day_ clothes.” **

“No, but this is—oh, never mind.” She ran one hand down her hair in a futile effort to smooth it into something resembling a presentable style. It _would_ be nice to go outdoors, and Hulk seemed as though he was in a fairly good mood; it might be best to indulge him in his desire to show her the grounds. “Give me a few minutes to get ready,” she said.

 

Hulk looked as though he wanted to start the whole conversation about her appearance over again, but he shrugged. “ **Darcy come to garden when has _day_ clothes,” **he said simply, dropping his hand. “ **Others know how to find it.”** He leapt off the balcony and disappeared, bounding around the corner and out of sight.

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy talks with Millie and learns a little more about her husband.

Darcy turned back into the room to find the maid who’d helped her the night before standing in the doorway.

 

“Oh, good morning,” said Darcy. “I didn’t see you there.”  She felt even more unkempt now that she was looking at the maid’s smooth bun and perfectly pressed uniform.

 

“Good mornin’, Mistress,” said the maid pleasantly. “My name is Millie, in case you didn’t hear it last night.”

 

“I’m Darcy.” Darcy was glad Millie had reintroduced herself; she’d been so drained the previous night after Bruce had left her that she barely remembered the maid putting her to bed.

 

“Yes, Mistress Darcy, ma’am,” said Millie, bobbing in a tiny curtsey. “The Master thought you might be needin’ some help this mornin’?”

 

“Well,” Darcy glanced out the window, where Hulk had been just moments before. “Yes, I could. My hair is a complete disaster.”

 

Millie just smiled and led her over to a vanity along the wall. Darcy sat down and looked at herself in the mirror. “Good merciful gods,” she exclaimed. “I look like I’ve been dragged backwards through the hedgerows. Twice.  ‘Darcy look fine,’ indeed.”

 

“Nonsense, Mistress Darcy,” said Millie briskly, as she picked up a comb and began gently working the snarls out of Darcy’s hair. “You’ve just been travelin’, is all. We none of us look our best after a journey.”

 

“Traveling?” repeated Darcy, amused. “That is one way to put it.” For a few moments, there was silence but for the sound of the comb slipping through Darcy’s hair, and then Darcy said, “You’re taking the news rather well that I just showed up out of nowhere, married to your master.”

 

“Oh, it is indeed quite a tale, Mistress,” said Millie, pulling a few strands of grass from Darcy’s hair and tucking them into the pocket of her skirt. “What with your father and the Green Master and all that? But Master Bruce told it to us last night, after he left you.”

 

Darcy frowned thoughtfully. “And what it is like, working for a master who’s…” she trailed off, not sure how much she should say, since both Bruce and Hulk had ordered her not to talk about the curse.

 

“A master who’s under a spell?” Millie said, wincing sympathetically as she caught a particularly nasty tangle in Darcy’s hair. “It certainly makes life more interestin’ ‘round here, to be sure. ‘Course, the enchantment was laid on him when I was but a little girl, too young to remember, so having both Master Bruce and the Green Master is all I’ve ever known. You should talk to Mrs. Lockwood, or Ernest, or my father. He works in the stables. They all remember what it was like before.”

 

“ _Would_ they talk to me?” Darcy asked. “Bruce and Hulk both made it very clear that I was not to talk about it with anyone.”

 

“Ah,” said Millie. “Well, you can’t talk about it with them who don’t live in the castle. ‘Tis part o’ the curse. Since you’re his wife, he can tell you. And anyone here will tell you anythin’ you want to know; you’re the lady of the castle now, after all. But you can’t tell any of _your_ family, ‘less they decide to join you here.”

 

“That’s interesting,” said Darcy curiously. “Is that supposed to keep him isolated even further?”

 

Millie nodded. “If’n you’d known from the beginning that the Green Master would turn into a gentle man at sundown, would you’ve been _quite_ so against marrying him?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know,” said Darcy. “I still would’ve hated being forced into it, I’m sure; but at least Bruce is normal-sized and fully clothed.” 

 

Millie nodded satisfactorily and said, “Just so. The curse is supposed to keep him alone and unhappy by keepin’ everyone frightened of him.”

 

“And he wanted this sorcerer for a father-in-law?” Darcy asked. “It sounds to me like he came out for the better, not having to associate himself with that man anymore.”

 

Millie gave Darcy’s now-smooth hair a pat. “Well, from what I’ve heard, the lady was _powerful_ beautiful,” she said. “With eyes like the sky and a smile as clear and sweet as a spring morning. A man would do many a fool thing to win the favor of a fair lady, as my father always says.”

 

“That is very true,” said Darcy, remembering all the silly romantic things Thor had done for Jane throughout their courtship.

 

“Would you like it up, Mistress?” asked Millie, tracing a curl with one finger. “You do have lovely hair; t’would be a shame to bind it, I must say.”

 

Darcy pursed her lips thoughtfully. She _should_ put it up, now that she was a married woman, but decided after a moment that there was no point to being the lady of the castle if she couldn’t do what she wanted every now and then. Besides, Hulk said he didn’t care, and the servants certainly wouldn’t chide her for it. “No,” she said. “Leave it.”

 

Millie walked over to the wardrobe and opened it, pulling out a simple dark blue dress. “Master said you’d arrived in breeches,” she said. “But I suppose today you’ll wear a dress? Your breeches aren’t quite fit for wearin’ yet.”

 

“Yes,” said Darcy. “I really only wore them to be contrary in the first place.”

 

Millie smiled as she helped Darcy into the gown and laced it up. “You’ve got spirit,” she said. “No wonder the Green Master took such a shine to you.” Darcy wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so she said nothing.

 

“Is there any way to break it?” Darcy blurted, after a few minutes’ silence. “The curse, I mean?”

 

Millie shook her head. “Not that we know of,” she said. “Master Bruce has been tryin’ all he can, ever since the beginning. He can’t do much since he’s got only the few hours of bein’ himself to work on it, the poor man, but he’s also got other things he has to do ‘round the castle while he’s got the time, and the mind, to do it.”

 

“Well,” said Darcy, smoothing down her skirt, “maybe I can help with that. It would at least give me something to do.”

 

 


End file.
